The Harvest of Asters
by brumal
Summary: "What're you up to?" Shion asked, hand falling from the towel. Nezumi brought up his right hand. A pair of scissors was looped between his slender fingers. "What's it look like?" He opened and closed it a few times in demonstration. "Sit down."


It was night, and the heater was emitting half-reliable, half-hearted warmth for the occupants of the room. Now and again, there was a short scraping noise—the sound of a turning page. Between the sporadic creaking of the heater, the soft chirruping of tiny mice could be heard. Their daily tale had been long since read to them, but they were still lingering around their most-beloved storyteller. They chittered amongst themselves in muted conversation, once in a while sweeping their whiskers through their paws.

There was a shift in the air as Shion ran his fingers through his hair absently, his eyes still trained on his book. From the couch, where he was languidly stretched upon, Nezumi raised his gaze over the top edge of his own tome. Shion was immediately aware of the fixed eyes upon him and looked up. They shared a brief moment of quiet.

"What?" he asked, frowning a bit.

Nezumi let out a huff of air. "'What,'" he parroted. In a louder voice, he said, "That's what I should be asking."

"Huh?"

"Don't 'huh,' me, Shion. You're the one who has been messing with his hair for the entire night."

"I have?" he asked, only barely realizing that his hand had once again wandered to the back of his head. Surprised at himself, he let out a small noise, dropped his arm, and muttered a not-quite-apology.

"So what's up with that mop of yours? You keep fidgeting around so much, it's ticking me off," Nezumi drawled. He bent his right knee and shifted on the couch a little.

"I guess it's just bugging me. It's too long. Been a while since I cut it—" he stopped for a quick second to calculate something. "—Since I came here, actually. Huh." Shion took his bangs between his fingers and twisted them appraisingly. They were beginning to cover his eyes and tickle his cheeks.

"What?" the reclining boy asked with a mocking, lilting tone, "You can't even cut your own hair?" A sour smile edged its way into the question.

Shion huffed indignantly. "I trim my own bangs fine, but I can't cut the back of it. Mom always helped me with that." He tugged angrily at his hair for a bit before his expression softened. His eyes grew hazy and his lips melted into a gentle smile.

Nezumi allowed him a moment of reminiscing before intruding into his thoughts. "Thinking about your mama again?"

A short chuckle accompanied his answer. "Yeah. A little." The glaze from his eyes cleared. Shion wetted his lips quickly. "Say, Nezumi... What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Who cuts your hair?"

Nezumi's book, which had slowly slipped down from his relaxing fingers throughout the entire conversation, snapped up at attention. It effectively hid half his face as he closed himself off again. "Are you asking stupid questions for the sake of asking stupid questions?"

Shion barely repressed a pout. "I'm asking because I want to know!"

Nothing. Shion was about to give up waiting when his friend's low voice trickled to him.

"Me."

"Huh?"

Nezumi raised his voice. "I cut my own hair."

"Really?" he asked, sounding a bit surprised. To stall for time, Shion swallowed. "I would've thought…."

"What?"

"Oh—nothing. I just thought you had someone else cut your hair. Since you have to appear on stage and all."

Once again, Nezumi let out a breath of unamused laughter. "Yeah, because there are just so many barbershops here in West Block. And I just happen to have so much extra money to get my hair cut."

Shion frowned. "I only said I thought…."

"Ever heard of a wig? It doesn't matter what my real hair looks like on stage."

A moment of silence. Nezumi glanced over his book. "What's with the grin?"

With poor success, Shion attempted to suppress the smile on his face. "Nothing. I was thinking about how funny you'd look with a wig on."

Under his breath, the boy muttered, "Childish…." His finger jabbed at the edge of the page and twisted it until it turned. The barrier went up again. "Showered yet?" He spoke more to the book than his companion.

Shion's face blanked. "Uh—no, not yet."

"Then hurry up and go. I want to shower too."

He grew confused. "Why don't you just go first then?"

"I want to finish this chapter. Hurry up," he repeated, "And don't use all the hot water."

As he picked up his bookmark and slid it between the pages of his novel, he murmured playfully to Hamlet. "Weird guy, isn't he?" Shion stretched his arms above his head before making his way to the bathroom. Right before he entered the small room, Nezumi called out from the couch—

"I heard that!"

* * *

Ten minutes later, Shion stepped out with damp hair and a towel around his neck. He was scrubbing at his head, trying his best to dry it off. The first thing he was aware of in the room was Nezumi. He had brought their chair into the center of the floor and draped an old towel over the back of it. Tsukiyo was prodding his nose between the worn folds of the towel, squeaking to his friends sitting on the table, as if reporting the details of his finding. Nezumi was facing away from Shion, but when he heard the door open, he turned around.

"What're you up to?" Shion asked, hand falling from the towel.

Nezumi brought up his right hand. A pair of scissors was looped between his slender fingers. "What's it look like?" He opened and closed it a few times in demonstration. "Sit down."

"Wh…. Huh?" At the same time, he realized exactly why Nezumi had been so pushy about making him shower. He needed Shion's hair to be wet in order to cut it for him. Strange, he thought, how Nezumi couldn't have just told him.

An exaggerated sigh escaped the lips of the celebrated actor. "You want your hair cut or not? Now come here and sit down."

Hesitantly, he walked over to the chair and settled down on it. The little black mouse scampered onto Shion, perched on his knee for a second with a twitching nose, and then joined his companions. With an absent gaze, he watched as the three mice cheeped amongst themselves, curiously sniffing at the air. "You know, you don't have to. I could just—"

"If I don't cut it for you," Nezumi interrupted rudely, "you'll drive me up a wall with all your fussing. It's annoying."

As if to show his spite, the boy grabbed the damp towel from Shion's neck and dropped it unceremoniously on his head. He roughly scrubbed at his head. Shion let out a garbled yell at the coarse treatment. Then, just as suddenly as the towel was thrown on his head, it was whipped off. He flung it onto the table, where the three mice darted about to avoid it. They voiced their complaints shrilly.

The air unfurled with the colorless towel Nezumi had grasped by the corners and whipped over Shion's head. The cloth barely had time to fall when it was pinned back. It draped smoothly over the boy's shoulders. As usual, Nezumi's actions were expert, graceful, and precise. The cloth covered the entirety of Shion's front. Amusedly, the boy began to flap his arms, causing the cloth to ripple and flutter. A playful smile quirked the edges of his lips, and the mice seemed to laugh at him.

"Just how old are you?" Nezumi muttered in a scolding voice, his eyebrows furrowed at Shion's antics. He merely responded with a slight giggle. Suddenly, the impromptu barber cleared his throat and began to speak in a dramatic, affected voice. "Now then, my valued customer," he announced, his words carrying through the acoustically-challenged room, "What will it be today? A little trim? A nice bit of styling? Shall we dye a little color to your most precious locks?"

Unable to help himself, Shion let out a laugh. "_You're_ the one who's ridiculous, Nezumi!" he replied with a large smile.

"Why, you wound me, valued customer!" Nezumi said, a sliver of humor slipping between his words. His hand fell upon the top of Shion's head as he began to smooth down the mussed up locks.

Shion started. His legs tensed as he got ready to stand up. "Should I get the comb from the bathroom?"

"Don't bother." A firm hand crushed him back into his seat. "It's faster if I just do this way." Nezumi's deft fingers dove back into the mess, fingernails scraping occasionally against his scalp. His actions were gruff, but they weren't violent. Shion's eyes slipped shut as he enjoyed the petting. "Back to the length you had then?"

It took a split-second before Shion answered, having been carried away so far in the simple pleasure of having his head scratched that he had to fall back to reality first. "Yeah—that'd be good."

Shion bit the inside of his lip as he felt Nezumi's fingers brush against his neck. He felt a slight tugging sensation as the other boy straightened out the ends of his hair. A short hum travelled to his ears as Nezumi evaluated the situation. A chill ran through his body as the scissors sliced through the air a few times, as if experimentally cutting the atmosphere. The next time he heard them, they were much closer to him—right against his neck. Strands of hair tickled him as they fell to the wrath of Nezumi's neat trimming. Once or twice, he jolted, on account of the chilled blades of the scissors touching his skin.

The boy worked in silence, rapidly moving from spot to spot, occasionally revisiting previous sections to even things out. A few times, Nezumi shoved his hand up from the nape of his neck to the crown of his head to loosen up the locks and shake off stray strands. He wasn't very gentle and kept forcing Shion's chin against his chest, but Shion didn't mind. Nezumi's grip felt firm and reassuring against his scalp.

A few minutes later, the snipping ceased, and Nezumi was leaning this way and that to check his handiwork.

"Good enough," he said off-handedly with a neutral expression. He moved until he was in front of Shion. Nezumi's grey eyes shifted to the side of his face. He brought his hand up, and his fingers softly cradled his cheek. He began to wedge portions of white hair between his index and middle finger, making it so that they stuck out sideways. Nezumi took scissors to those as well, frequently releasing and taking up new clumps to trim. He smoothed the hair back behind Shion's ear to check it, running his fingers across the soft ridge and picking off stray hair from it absentmindedly. A few times, Shion could have sworn Nezumi was just pinching and rubbing his ear for the hell of it. When he deemed the first side satisfactory, he repeated the cutting on the other.

Finally, he was ready to fix Shion's bangs. He stooped over to get a closer look. Shion fixed his eyes on Nezumi's face. The edges of his thin lips were turned down a bit as he yanked gently on the hair. His dark brows furrowed, as if insulted by the length of his bangs. As he brought the scissors up and began to snip away, Shion glanced away, his eyes flitting from place to place. It was hard not to stare at the boy in front of him.

He cracked a smile. The taller boy noticed the wistful look on Shion, and his concentrated expression became one of irritation. "What?" he snapped, ceasing his actions but not backing away.

"It's funny," Shion said simply, addressing Nezumi's knees. "I never know where to look when someone's cutting my bangs. Mom and I always used to laugh when she helped me, because it was so amusing. She'd be focusing, and I'd be staring at her intently until she looked me straight in the eye. And then we'd laugh." The smile on his face grew at the memory. He brought his gaze up until he was staring right at Nezumi. His grin and gaze relaxed. In a low, thoughtful voice, he murmured, "It's because you're so close; I don't know where else to look."

Nezumi hesitated for a second before straightening up. "Jeez," he said, right hand falling to his side and left one running through his own bangs in exasperation. "You never think before you speak. Always saying ridiculous and embarrassing things as if it's nothing…."

"But it's the truth!" he exclaimed, eyes growing wide.

"Yeah, well…" Nezumi said, leaning down and yanking Shion's bangs hard, "Stop it." He opened up the blades of the scissors and recommenced trimming. Pieces of silver fell onto the faded towel as he worked, never hesitating and never unsure.

To avoid further awkwardness, Shion began to look at the hair accumulating on the towel. Somehow, all he wanted to do was watch as Nezumi focused on him. There was something about the way that his lips pursed together lightly and his eyes flashed with the silver of the scissors. Something about the slope of his jaw and the shape of his nose…. He bit the inside of his lip again.

"Hey," a stern voice beckoned him. A forefinger and thumb grasped his chin and eased his face up. "Look at me. I can't see your bangs if you're ducking your head like that," Nezumi scolded. None too gently, he turned Shion's head left and right to check the symmetry of his hair. He began to ruffle through the newly cut locks, fluffing it up here and smoothing it down there. Shion's hair had dried considerably through the process of being trimmed. "Good enough," he said again, satisfied with his handiwork.

He leaned forward and reached behind Shion's neck, undoing the pin on the cloth. They were so close. Shion sucked in his breath as Nezumi's hair tickled his cheek.

"Go check it out," the taller boy ordered, folding up the towel by the corners carefully so that no more hair would get on the floor.

Shion rubbed his neck to get rid of any stray strands. "Yeah." Cravat scrambled off the table and darted up to his shoulder as he headed toward the bathroom. The boy giggled a little when he felt tiny whiskers tickle his neck. Gentle squeaking accompanied him as the mouse helped pick off hairs sticking to him.

In front of the mirror, Shion turned his head slightly to see how Nezumi had done. It was great. His hair looked exactly as it had months ago. It was the right length, and it wasn't as if he had choppy bald spots anywhere. Though he couldn't see it, the back of his hair felt alright too.

"What do you think, Cravat?" he asked the mouse in the mirror. In response, he received a series of agreeable squeaks. "Yeah," Shion said. "I think so too."

Nezumi was halfway through sweeping the floor when Shion came out. Hamlet and Tsukiyo were playing with him and making his life harder by getting in his way. They darted boldly around the bristles, getting as close as they could without getting thwacked away.

"Oi, you two. Stop it," he muttered, jabbing at them threateningly. They only chittered happily and ran in circles.

Shion pressed his fingers against his lips to stop from laughing. "Nezumi," he called out, his voice seeped with a smile, "you go ahead and shower. I'll clean up here."

The bristles crunched against the floor as Nezumi leaned his weight on them. He quirked an eyebrow and looked suspiciously at Shion.

He gave Nezumi a bright, energetic smile in response.

They watched each other soundlessly. There was a quick motion as Nezumi swept his arm up, flinging the broom at Shion without warning. Shion only had a split second before he instinctively brought his hands up. The handle smacked his palms smartly, and he wrapped his fingers around it without thinking. "Jeez!" he exclaimed, gripping the broom close to his chest, "You could have warned me or something!"

Nezumi smirked at him. "Not bad," he stated, ignoring what Shion said. "You didn't close your eyes or wince." He walked toward Shion, stopping briefly to clap his hand onto his shoulder. "Keep it up and maybe you won't die so easily." His fingers slipped off Shion's shirt, and he entered the bathroom.

Shion half-turned to watch.

* * *

The bathroom door had barely cracked open when Nezumi was greeted by an over-enthusiastic voice.

"Nezumi!" Shion was all smiles, as usual. He was standing before the chair with the same, faded towel draped across one arm. The way he was presenting himself, he looked like a waiter in a fancy restaurant. Nezumi almost expected him to bow and say, "Please follow me to your table." The thought was a frivolous one, and he pushed it aside right away.

"Come here! Sit, sit! I'll cut your hair now," the boy said, moving the chair in invitation.

Expressionlessly, Nezumi blinked at him. The boy looked way too excited. The last time Nezumi saw him like that, he was holding a hypodermic needle. "Shion," he sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand, "do I look like one of Inukashi's dogs to you?"

"Hey!" he cried out. Shion put his hands on his hips and frowned. "I used to cut my mom's hair too, you know! It's not as if I don't know how to do it!"

The corners of Nezumi's mouth pulled down further as he watched Shion with growing doubt.

Shion made a noise in the back of his throat. "You cut my hair. The least I could do is return the favor. Have a little faith in me." He tilted his head. For some stupid reason, the mice on the table tilted their tiny heads too. Nezumi had no idea if Shion was becoming more like the mice or the other way around.

They held a brief staring contest before he lurched forward. Immediately, Shion beamed.

"Don't worry, Nezumi! I know what I'm doing," he said cheerfully as his companion threw himself sullenly upon the chair. He slouched and crossed his arms across his chest, looking more like a petulant child than anything. Shion swallowed a chuckle and bit his lower lip.

He took up the towel Nezumi had tossed over his shoulder and began to gently dry his hair. As Nezumi had done for him, Shion began to unknot the long strands of hair carefully.

"If you're going to do that, work a little faster. We don't have all day, and I'm not made of glass." Nezumi brought up his own hand and roughly carded his fingers through his hair. A few strands snapped off and stuck to his skin, but he didn't seem to care. A few times of this, and his hair was more or less untangled.

Shion placed his fingers gingerly against the nape of Nezumi's neck. "Er—thanks." The large cloth was shaken open and wrapped around Nezumi's shoulders. It wasn't done with nearly as much finesse as when Nezumi did it, but it worked. He tugged at the corners to smooth everything out.

He started to partition the long, dark hair, flattening the wet hair between his fingers. Droplets of water were squeezed out and dribbled down his hand. Shion was surprised to find that the hair was coarser than he thought originally. It wasn't exactly rough, but the way it shone in the light always made him think Nezumi had silky smooth hair. For a moment, he hesitated, wondering how weird it would have been if Nezumi had hair like his mother. He shook the thought away casually.

"How short do you usually cut your hair?" Shion asked, having to physically keep himself from petting Nezumi's head and playing with the damp locks.

A series of fluttering motions came from underneath the draped cloth. Shion was reminded of billowing sheets in the wind, or floating jellies he had seen in a digital clip once upon a time. Nezumi's pale hand had emerged from the folds to break the illusion. He shrugged the fabric up a little and took ahold of the ends of his hair. "About here." He had pinched a clump to indicate his desired length—slightly below his shoulders. His arm shuffled back under the cloth.

"Right." He reached over to the low coffee table and picked up the scissors. They dragged slightly against the worn wood. Once against his skin, the cool metal of the scissors began to suck away the warmth of his fingers. Shion picked at the inky hair, testing the thickness of it. "Do you want me to layer it for you?"

Nezumi froze. Slowly, he turned to give Shion a side-long glance. Though he said nothing, Shion felt acutely embarrassed. His cheeks burned, and it took all of his will to not look away.

He stammered slightly. "W-What? I told you I used to cut my mom's hair!"

It was Nezumi who broke eye contact. He shifted back so he was facing forward again. "Do what you want."

Shion huffed. There was simply no pleasing the boy. Lack skills at one thing, and he would be mocked; possess too much in another, and he would be mocked. If he was a bit more vindictive, Shion would have sheared him bald. But, in the same way Nezumi would have rued the loss of Shion's hair, Shion likewise liked Nezumi's. He would layer it.

There was no need to fill the silence, so accustomed were they to sharing comfortable quietude that the occasional cheep from the mice and the steady snipping of the scissors was enough.

Nezumi's hair fell, silently fluttering to the floor. While Nezumi was almost malicious while cutting Shion's hair, Shion was patient and gentle. He didn't dally on any one spot for too long but always made sure each time the blades closed, they would do exactly what he needed them to. Hamlet, Cravat, and Tsukiyo were scurrying around Shion's feet, grabbing clumps of Nezumi's discarded hair and playing with it. A few times, they nibbled at it before spatting it out and sweeping it away. Shion had no idea what they were doing but only made sure not to tread on them accidentally.

He let his mind wander as he worked. It made sense that Nezumi kept his hair kind of long. At least, that way, he would be able to bring it forward with ease and trim it. It must be difficult though, cutting his own hair. Somehow, Nezumi made it work. Shion had really expected him to have gone to someone else to get a haircut, since his hair looked so well-kept. He wondered how many years it had taken Nezumi to perfect this art. Maybe he had been doing it ever since Shion helped him four years ago. Or perhaps even before that? He didn't know.

Doing everything for himself and depending on no one—Shion thought about how lonely that must be. He thought it even lonelier that Nezumi had gotten used to it. He rested his hand against Nezumi's head for a breath too long and moved on.

Soon, he was standing before Nezumi. Of course the boy looked bored out of his mind. Were his eyes closed more than the half-mast position they were in, he would be sleeping. Shion wasn't insulted; it was just how Nezumi acted. Desperately guarded, yet easily triggered into a fit of emotion—at least, around Shion he was.

Shion, never short on smiles, flashed one at him. This only served to make Nezumi look even more disgruntled.

Without saying anything, he took up a large clump of dark hair. He held it out perpendicularly to Nezumi's hairline and took short jabs at the ends. Shion stayed true to the organized unevenness of the bangs, ensuring that they would fall properly once completely dry. This part a bit longer, the adjacent strands just over the eye—Nezumi's hair was as fickle as he.

He was almost done with trimming when he looked at Nezumi. Throughout the entire exchange, he had been staring straight ahead at some distant location. Apparently, he had none of the humorous trouble of not knowing where to look when someone was cutting his bangs. Even though he was right in front of him, Nezumi wasn't looking at Shion. Something in his chest twinged, and Shion swallowed.

Nezumi noticed him gawking. "What is it?"

"Just thinking about how bored you look! You had a funny face on." He smiled wide enough to squint his eyes and shrugged up one shoulder. Shion got close again, trying to go back to his task. Now, Nezumi was no longer wandering in his thoughts but had his eyes locked on him.

"Shion," Nezumi started sternly. There was some movement underneath the towel, as if Nezumi was trying to take his hand out from underneath it. His gaze had become cold and sharp. His lips parted to speak, but no sound came out.

Shion was smiling at him with kind and sad eyes. He said nothing and pushed Nezumi's bangs from his forehead with his hand. Against his palm, Nezumi felt warm and alive. The fluttering cloth had ceased moving. Staring into those fathomless eyes, Nezumi suddenly felt like a child again.

The smile cracked. "It's nothing," he said in a low voice. His eyes took on a faraway look for a split second. In the next, Shion was back, and the smile had morphed into his usual, energetic one. When he spoke again, his voice had returned to normal. "I'm almost done, so just sit tight." His hand left Nezumi's forehead, leaving both of them feeling a little cold and empty.

A sharp, flapping movement indicated Nezumi's hand dropping back into his lap. He closed his mouth and did not press his companion further.

True to his words, it only took Shion a few more minutes to finish up the haircut. A quick examination later and he was carefully removing the towel from Nezumi's shoulders. Silently, the boy stood up and ran a hand through his freshly trimmed hair. He had a disgruntled look on his face as he headed to the restroom. Shion followed him quietly, the folded towel still in his hands.

As Nezumi examined himself in the mirror silently, Shion hung around the doorframe, nervously awaiting judgment. He worried the corner of his bottom lip with his canine tooth. The bathroom was still humid from Nezumi's shower, but the mirror had defogged a while ago. The dampness in the air made breathing even more difficult for Shion.

A long, tense moment passed as the actor turned his head and tugged at his bangs. Then, he gathered it up held it between the ring of his index and thumb. It was still long enough to tie up properly. Nezumi's eyes darted to the side of the mirror, where he could see Shion's reflection hovering around the entrance with tinged, nervous cheeks. He let go of his hair. The locks fell down and curled toward his chin gently. Nezumi's steely, grey eyes drilled into Shion's scarlet, mirrored ones.

"Not bad," he said succinctly.

Shion released his suspended breath, and his cheeks flushed deeper with pride and pleasure.

He turned sharply on his heel. "Hurry up cleaning the floor. I'm going to sleep." As he exited the tiny bathroom, his shoulder slid against Shion's.

Addressing Nezumi's back, Shion exclaimed, "Okay!" and pressed the towel closer to his chest. He was so happy that he didn't even argue that he was the one who had to clean up again. Shion stepped out and placed the folded cloth onto the empty seat of the chair.

The bed screeched and squeaked loudly as Nezumi threw himself on it and settled down. The three mice milled around the broom, waiting to play with Shion. As he half-turned to look at Nezumi's still back, he let his grin soften into a wistful one.

That's right, he thought to himself, slowly bringing up a hand and rubbing at the back of his neck, where his newly cut hair prickled his skin. Things will be different. One day, he wouldn't be the one looking up at Nezumi, and neither would Nezumi simply stare through him. Eventually, their relationship would no longer be so lopsided.

He let his hand dropped and curled his fingers gently against the back of the worn chair, which was still warm. He took in a deep breath.

One day, Shion was certain, Nezumi would finally look at him as an equal.


End file.
